Night Lovers

As evening turns its face
against the gaudy day
(and others rise to chase
that upstart sun away),
dear darkness strokes my cheek:
its soothing, velvet glove
compels my heart to speak
of you and we and love;
then moonlight's riches fall
upon our silvered skin
and, wrapped within its shawl,
impervious to sin,
cocooned, content and curled,
we lie, until the dawn
recalls us to this world,
reluctantly reborn.